


Escaping the Palace

by cadkitten



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Come Shot, Drug Use, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This... this was the place he'd wanted to find, the reason why he returned again and again to this place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escaping the Palace

**Author's Note:**

> "The cocaine high involves psychological changes to how the person thinks and feels emotionally and physical changes. Some of these changes are caused by the effects of cocaine on the brain and nervous system, and some are due to personal feelings that the cocaine user brings to the experience. This is why, although there are similarities among cocaine users' experiences of the cocaine high, the effect cocaine has on each person is different." [[Source](http://addictions.about.com/od/cocaine/a/What-Do-Cocaine-Effects-Feel-Like.htm%20)]  
> Beta Readers: tsuyu-sama  
> Song[s]: "Fukai Toi" by Tosinn

Sherlock's eyelids fluttered closed as he breathed out a quiet sigh, smoke curling up from his lips into the air of the room. It wasn't often that he indulged in this manner, but sometimes it just felt better to him than any other method. He tilted his head back, his back arching faintly as he took in another drag from the glass pipe he held in his hand. Placing the lighter aside, he breathed back out the huff of breath he'd been holding in. The pipe followed onto the desk by his bed as he settled, eyes half-lidded, the music he'd placed on in the background slowly seeping into him as he drew in his next breath and then released it on a low moan.

He swallowed thickly, waiting as the drug began to make its way through his system, setting up the familiar feelings as it went. He envisioned the chemical makeup as it slid through him: benzoylmethylecgonine. _Methyl (1R,2R,3S,5S)-3- (benzoyloxy)-8-methyl-8-azabicyclo[3.2.1] octane-2-carboxylate_ , the structure danced before his eyes as he slowly eased away from the stark reality that was his usual mental state.

His head dragged roughly along the wall as he moved, a soft sigh slipping between parted lips. And then a moan, the stark hit of euphoria sliding into his body as he reached up and dragged his hand through his hair. This... this was the place he'd wanted to find, the reason why he returned again and again to this place when he could afford to. Another rough moan, the pads of his fingers dragging down his neck and across one hardened nipple. His eyelids flew open as he became aware of other reactions his body was having to the moment; one glance down confirming his cock was already hardening in his pants. Rarely did Sherlock indulge in anything sexually related, his mind far too focused on other things, the needs seeming pointless in consideration to the things he had to get done on a daily basis.

But when he was like this... he longed for it. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, grasping his length and starting to stroke quickly. Instantly, his mind was filled with images of the things he wanted to do with his cock rather than be touching it himself, alone in his bedroom. So absorbed was he, that he nearly missed the sound of the door to the flat opening. The footsteps... those he recognized as Mycroft's. So many years of listening to those footfalls, he knew them inside and out. Still, he didn't stop... couldn't. The midst of his high floating him along, uncaring if he was found this way, intrigued by the thought of what might happen if he was. For Sherlock, such things held no social boundaries, no norms that he needed to conform to. And so, when the door opened and Mycroft stepped over the threshold, regarding him coldly, Sherlock simply continued to touch himself, pinning Mycroft with the most sexual of gazes as the older closed the door behind himself.

"Sherlock," Mycroft breathed out, disdain clear in his voice. "You're high again." Stating the obvious... so very Mycroft.

Sherlock shuddered and then extracted his hand from his pants, taking hold of the waistband and pushing them down, revealing his aching length to the air of the room. He drew in another breath, letting it free on a sigh of pleasure. Even when Mycroft started toward him, all Sherlock could think of was what that mouth would feel like around his prick, what it would be like to shove his head down on him and choke him on it. Excitement boiled in his veins as the other neared him and he reached out one hand, waiting until Mycroft took it in his own. When he did, he wrenched him onto the bed and quickly rolled over onto him. Instantly, he ground his cock against the front of Mycroft's suit, letting out the most unrestrained of moans as he felt the harsh slide of the material against his sensitive length.

For a moment, Mycroft struggled, and then he stilled, staring up at Sherlock, confusion written across his face. And for the first time in years, the word, "Brother?" slipped free of his lips without the usual disdain to accompany it.

Sherlock stared down at the other, moving his hips again and then sighing out the bliss he found in the action. He had to be quick... this had to happen while he was in this place, so far away from his palace and from every restraint of his usual mind. _Fast_. He moved again, finding that Mycroft's body was responding, his length swelling in his trousers. He gave pause to return the obvious, "You're getting hard, Mycroft." He let the name slip off his tongue as if he were tasting it. And then leaning in, "I used to watch you indulge late at night when we were... much younger."

Mycroft's slightly trembling hand reached up to cup Sherlock's face. "Did I cause this then?" he asked quietly, a look of pure shame sliding over his features as he stared up at him. "Did I create this monster?"

Sherlock turned his head to press a kiss on Mycroft's palm, closing his eyes and shaking his head. His fingers closed over Mycroft's own, fondling, caressing... his breathing increasing just off of what he was doing to his brother's fingers. His lips rubbed over the flesh, moans pouring from his throat as he rubbed and kissed at the fingers, finally sucking one into his mouth and folding the others back out of the way before he started to bob his head on it, sucking the digit in and out of his mouth in shameless pantomime of what he really wanted. Sliding off of his finger at last, he breathed out, "You didn't cause anything..." his tongue slid over the flesh of the other's wrist and then his teeth, a near growl coming from him before he jerked his hips again, finding Mycroft fully erect against him. "Suck me," he breathed out, the words barely audible in the room, his eyes dark as he stared down into Mycroft's own, waiting on the answer.

"Sherlock, I-"

"Stop thinking about society... you always think too much. Act for once," Sherlock interrupted, his hips bucking hard and quick a few times. "This is what I want."

There were a few moments of silence and, finally, Mycroft rolled them over, hesitating as he stared down into Sherlock's face. Their lips touched for a moment and Sherlock reached up, burying his hands in Mycroft's hair, spearing his tongue into his brother's mouth as he bucked up against him, all straining muscle and desperation. He let out a sharp groan and flopped back against the bed. "Please... there isn't long," he pleaded, his hands pushing into his own hair, rubbing it around as he moved against the bed, rubbing his skin against the freshly-laundered sheets.

His breath caught as Mycroft moved, sliding down his body, his fingertips trailing over his aching length. And then... _then_ Mycroft's warm mouth slid over his cock and he arched from the bed, visions of what he'd been imagining earlier being replaced by the reality of how his brother looked with his dick in his mouth. "Yes," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly as he watched Mycroft take him in, nearly all the way down and then back up again. The actions were methodical, nothing less than Sherlock would have expected, built from years of knowledge to get Sherlock off the fastest. But he didn't mind... time was running out, the clock ticking down to his return to the overwhelming burden of his own thoughts. He didn't even have to force Mycroft down on him, the other nearly gagging himself a few times as he got a bit overzealous, each time causing Sherlock to moan and writhe against the bed.

And then it was happening: the most intense spark of pleasure slid through him, liquid heat warming every centimeter of his body and then he was moaning as he came. Mycroft's tongue lapped at him, his cum spilling into the other's mouth as he let it free, his hands yanking harshly at the bed covers. He panted and bucked, finally grabbing Mycroft's hair and holding him as he thrust into his mouth a few more times and then stopped, straining, and then crying out louder than before, the second orgasm hitting him like a freight train. Trembling, he eased himself back down on the bed, lolling his head side-to-side.

Even as he eased back down to himself, he became aware of Mycroft hovering over him, the sound of his belt clinking as he masturbated making Sherlock look up into his face. They caught and held one another's eyes, Sherlock reaching up to trail his fingers over Mycroft's cheek. "Always remember, brother..." a smirk slid over his lips, "you're not even high." His fingers grasped his jaw and pulled him down, kissing him harshly, moaning into his mouth as he felt the way Mycroft's pace quickened. And then the splash of his brother's cum hit across his hip and he moved back from the kiss to gaze down at him as he spilled all over him. His movements were frantic... a bit harsh... and Sherlock admired that he had lost such control while he'd been perfectly sober.

Reaching down, he trailed his fingers through the mess, rubbing it into his skin as he relaxed against the bed, his own cock slackening at long last. Even as Mycroft's forehead came to rest on his shoulder, the elder trembling slightly, Sherlock breathed out a contented sigh. He lifted his clean hand to run through Mycroft's hair, a gesture he normally would have foregone. But he felt responsible for this... for pushing Mycroft over the carefully crafted boundaries of society. Finally, he turned his head and sighed out the words he knew the other needed to hear on some level, "Mutual, Mycroft... entirely mutual. Each of us only as screwed up as the other."

Mycroft gave a single nod. A few minutes passed before he stood up and went about fastening his trousers back up. Sherlock watched him, drifting back out of his high, but not enough to care just yet. "What did you want?"

"Later... we can discuss it later."

"Mmm..." Sherlock rolled onto his side, drawing his leg up to somewhat hide his nudity, his cheek rubbing against the comforter. "Make us tea."

Mycroft left without another word, walking out and closing the door back behind him, leaving Sherlock to laze around in his post-high bliss. Nothing... nothing in the world could have felt like that had felt, Sherlock reasoned silently. And nothing was going to take it away from him.

**The End**


End file.
